


The Mulligan

by TehLadyCav



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Past Abuse, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehLadyCav/pseuds/TehLadyCav
Summary: What if everyone got a do-over? What if they could go back in time? What would change? More importantly, what would stay the same?





	1. Chapter 1

NAYNA  
She’d been around enough dead bodies and sat in on enough autopsies that the smell of the dead shouldn’t have bothered her. And usually it didn’t. But today, it overwhelmed her. Granted she was standing down wind and the stench of a thousand rotting corpses in the midsummer heat wafted over her, a noxious, overripe smell that set her stomach to rolling.  
  


Searching through her bag for anything to cut through the smell, she sighed as she came up with nothing. No Vicks Vapor rub, no rubbing alcohol, nothing. Negan had taken it all. The only things she had left in her bag were a few cotton bandages she and Maggie made themselves, a pair of ‘utility panties’ as Negan called them, a few crackers and strips of dried venison, some twine, boot shine and a bottle of water. She supposed she could wrap the bandages around her face, but that wouldn’t cut out much of the stench and frankly it would just irritate her.  
  


Nayna carefully picked her way down the rocky hill, taking care to aim every step just so. She stopped and slung her bow over her shoulder before continuing down, gripping trees and branches for support.  
Eventually, she would reach the river, where she could refill her water and gather her bearings. It would be dark soon and she had to start heading back to Alexandria.  
  


Bitterness flooded through her heart, knowing she would be going back empty handed. Though her own stomach growled, she couldn’t help but think of how thin Judith had gotten, even though herself, Michonne, Rick and even Carl all scrapped their plates for her.  
  


There were no dandelions, no mulberry bushes, no random patches of wild blackberries or strawberries. She didn’t know enough to pick out random plants to eat. Maybe she could catch a fish, if she was lucky. Nayna had never been adept at fishing, and she cursed herself for not learning. Hell, her whole fucking family was redneck enough to eat the animals they shot, and yet it took her until the end of the world to learn her hunting and tracking skills.  
  


As she plotted out her next course of action, she slid down the hill a little more than she anticipated. She grabbed wildly for a branch and snagged the first one she could.  
  


“Fuck,” she said to herself with a shaky breath. “I almost—”  
  


The branch snapped. The moments between the breaking tree limb and her losing her footing seemed to stretch out into an eternity. It was then she realized exactly how high up she still was and exactly how steep the incline was. When she did begin to fall, it was in slow motion, as if it were a movie. She felt like she was watching someone else fly down the hill, feet first.  
  


All the way down she scrabbled for something to hold on to, only coming up with handfuls of pine needles and dirt. When her heel smashed into a rock, she was jolted back into her own body as a sharp juttering pain thundered up her leg. Without thinking, she shifted her body, so she slid sideways down the hill, crying out as her side and back scrapped along every rock and every tree root.    
At the bottom she landed with a hard thump. There was a pop, followed by excruciating pain in her spine. She lay completely still for a moment, gasping through the pain, eyes watering and fingers tingling.  
  


“Fuck,” she whispered again, though this time her voice came out hoarse and stilted.  
  


Everything hurt. Breathing hurt. Her teeth chattering as rushes of cold washed over her, hurt. Even moving her eyes back and forth across the darkening sky hurt her head.  
  


Panic set in as she realized she couldn’t feel her toes, and then more panic when she realized she couldn’t’ even lift her head to look at her toes. Oh god, she fell harder than she thought.  
  


Calm the fuck down, doll. You don’t know the extent of the damage yet. Stop being a fucking baby and run through everything.  
  


A hysterical laugh escaped her, as she heard Negan’s voice in her head. His commanding voice, even though it was just in her imagination, calmed her down enough for her to take inventory and relay just the facts.  
  


She knew for sure she could feel the dirt and rocks under her shoulders and under her fingers, but moving her fingers hurt just as bad as breathing. She could taste the metallic tang of blood on her tongue, and she could smell the forest air. Okay, so she couldn’t feel her toes, but then again she felt her heel and the jabbing pains. So that wasn’t so bad, was it? Her hips moved, based on the sounds coming from underneath her. The last hint of rationality told her that her panicked mode was making her miss little details. Like the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Or the odd angle of the leg she couldn’t quite see. Once those details registered she truly began to grow alarmed.  
  


The more she told herself not to panic, the harder her heart hammered and the louder that little voice in her head screamed about her death. Breathing became ever more difficult as she tried to stave off an anxiety attack.  
  


Tears trickled down her face, and she couldn’t even move to wipe them away. Her wild thoughts turned to Rick and the things she never said to him. The things she never would get to say to him. So many regrets. So much pain. The idea of death scared her less than the idea that she would never see Rick or Carl or Judith or anyone at Alexandria ever again.  
  


She would never even see Negan again. Nayna couldn’t quite place her finger on why that bothered her so much, but it made her heart ache in a way that Rick didn’t.  
  


There were so many things she wished she had done. So many things she wish she could do over.  
  


Slowly, everything began to fade to black. She wasn’t sure if it was night or death settling in at first. But the pain began to seep from her body and she understood the truth and closed her eyes. Sleep would be the end. She only hoped they would find her body before it was too late.


	2. Chapter 2

NAYNA

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the sunshine streaming through the windows and glaring right into her eyes. When she rolled over cool air wafted over her cheek. Squinting up at the vent above, her gaze fell on the awful popcorn ceiling. God, she told William thousands of times to get rid of it. Of course, her husband never listened to her. There was a time where she would have given anything to have William there, not listening to her. But as time went on and she grew closer to Rick and eventually, Negan, the good memories of her husband faded, leaving only the bad and bitter. Memories of popcorn ceilings and textured walls.

Thinking about her former husband only fogged her sleepy, muddled brain more. She closed her eyes and sighed. Right about then she’d give anything to have Negan and his sarcastic ass beside her, making her laugh with whatever vulgarity he scraped up. Hell, she’d even let him distract her in other ways…

Her fingers skimmed the rough stitching of her comforter, aiming for the panties Negan had brought her. She froze when her fingers slipped over a silky, sheath of fabric on her thigh. Her eyes snapped open as she lifted the covers, catching a glimpse of purple and blue. A glimpse of a nightgown long gone.

Without a moment of hesitation, Nayna shot up and threw back the brown and orange blanket, alarms ringing in her brain. It was wrong. All of it. She swung her feet over the edge and stumbled from the bed, grasping one of the awful textured walls for support.

She tilted her head back and stared at the popcorn ceiling in disgust. It made no fucking sense. She scanned the room with her heart hammering in her ears and her mouth filling with a nasty tasting bile.

The furniture was the same as it had been the day she’d left it. Dark wood with the weird squares on the front. Clean, solid and inviting. The bedspread was the same brown and muted sunset orange to match the walls. A box fan settled in the corner, running at full blast for white noise. And those fucking blinds that they spend thousands of dollars and countless arguments on.

She leaned against the muted orange walls and pressed the heels of her hands to her temples. A band of anxiety tightened her chest, making her breaths come out in short puffs. The lack of breaths made her head spin and she slipped down the wall, falling into a heap on the carpet.

She screamed silently to herself. _What happened? What_ fucking _happened?_

The hill. She’d been hunting last night and she fell down the hill. Had she hit her head? Nayna gingerly touched the base of her skull, but everything felt whole and normal. She remembered not being able to move and the exquisite pain. But there was no pain now. And her toes…She looked down at her red polished toes, wriggling practically of their own accord.

Everything had gone dark. Had she died? Was she in some sort of afterlife?

She covered her mouth, muffling a strangled cry. Oh god. She had died, alone on that hill and she never told Negan…Or Rick…

She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face as a few tears streaked down her face.

Negan’s voice, mixed with her own pragmatism echoed through her head. _Calm the fuck down, doll._ She gave a choked laugh. It was exactly what she’d said to herself the previous night.

The likelihood of her being dead was slim to none, she was just letting her panicked thoughts run away with themselves. She was probably just having a vivid, surreal dream. All she had to do was get through it until she woke up.

But, what if it wasn’t a dream?

Nayna wiped her face. If that came true, she would deal with it accordingly. For now, panicking wouldn’t do anything but drive her fucking crazy. Panicking would not give her the answers she sought.

She stood on jellied legs and staggered her way into the master bath. When she flipped the light on all she saw was the disarray of her previous life. The towel on the floor, the overflowing garbage can, the cabinet doors thrown open and her toothbrush laying on its side next to the holder.

She looked up at the mirror. Her normally long, dark brown hair was streaked with red highlights. The stupid highlights she’d gotten two weeks before everything happened. Last night’s makeup was smeared across her face, giving her racoon eyes. Her face looked less gaunt, a little fuller, her cheeks less hollow.

Instead of touching her face, she reached out and stroked a finger down the mirror. If this was a dream, how did it feel as real as last night’s fall? Would she even feel the cold tile under her feet or the edge of the cool countertop pressed into her lower belly?

She closed her eyes, pulling up the memory of last night. The pain lingered in the back of her mind, making her ribcage tender, but it evaporated before she could press her hand to her side.

And yet, still fresh in her mind, was the image of her partner getting plastered and her boss getting an accidental lap dance. A picture that hadn’t been there before. She rubbed her forehead and then turned the faucet on, splashing her face, trying to ground herself.

She had to find one of them. Anyone. Just to see if she had been dreaming. Her best bet was Rick. She knew the name of the little town he and Carl lived in and she knew he had been in the hospital.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Relief flooded through her system now that she had a plan. All she had to do was find Rick.

She stuffed herself into a pair of jeans and a shirt from the bathroom floor and slipped out of her bedroom.

Just as she was pulling the door shut, she heard a feminine voice mutter, “You motherfucker and your cool ass crime shit.”

Lexie…Her best friend, whom she pushed out of her mind. Nayna rounded the corner and found Lexie tapping away at the laptop and sipping coffee.

“Morning. I thought you’d never get the hell up,” Lexie said, putting the world’s greatest aunt mug down on the table.

“W-w-what are you doing?” Nayna asked, her voice cracking.

Lexie smirked up at her. “Going through the CHANGE?”

As always when it came to Lexie, Nayna said the first thing that popped into her head. “Fuck you.”

Lexie busted out laughing. “Sorry, I’m in hiding.”

“C-c-clearly,” Nayna said. She stepped closer, arms jerking up and then falling back at her sides as she remembered how much Lexie hated hugging. Instead, she pulled up a chair and sat next to her.

“Jesus, stutter much? Also, I dunno if anyone told you, but you look fucking awful. What the hell did you do last night? And why wasn’t I invited? Also, why are you looking at me like you’ve got a hangover and I’m a fucking Advil migraine?”

Nayna shook her head and put her fingers up to her temples. “Look at the news. Is there anything going on?”

She raised a blonde brow at Nayna and tapped a few keys. “Just the usual political bullshit. This person stabbed that person. Oh, look a parakeet that can whistle yankee doodle.”

She searched Lexie’s face. “Nothing about…about dead people?”

“I mean, only the shit you left up on your computer last night. By the way, that shit was fucked up.”

Nayna wiped a hand over her face. “I don’t even remember last night.”

Lexie scooped up her coffee and sashayed around the corner. “Well, whatever you were drinking, I need some. My life is utterly fucking boring right now and I need to spice that shit up. Also, fuck you and your cool fucking shit. I saw that fucking death and decomp class. God, I hate you so much.”

While Lexie washed the mug, Nayna slipped behind the laptop and began frantically searching the news for any sign of impending doom. But Lexie had been right. There was nothing. Instead, she started to type Rick Grimes into the search bar but stopped when Lexie cleared her throat.

Nayna closed the laptop and looked up to find Lexie frowning at her. “What?”

“You sure you okay?”

She considered her best friend for a moment and sighed. It was so farfetched, but she had to tell someone. “I had this dream.”

“Ooh was it a sex dream? I had one the other night about the dude from Lucifer. Damn that man is fiiiine. Sorry, continue.”

Nayna half-smiled. Even though Lexie would have been more of a burden, she certainly would have broken the monotony of the day to day in Alexandria.

“No, not a sex dream. I just dreamt that the dead rose up and they were eating people and I ended up in Alexandria with a bunch of people— “

Lexie’s brows knitted together. “Jesus, Meghan, what the fuck did you do last night? You sure somebody didn’t slip you something? That sounds like an intense fucking dream.”

Nayna traced the grain of the table. “I guess it was just a dream…”

“What else would it be?” Lexie asked, disappearing into the kitchen and after a moment returning with a bag of mini-eggs.

Nayna shook her head. “Yeah, nevermind…”

Lexie tossed a handful in her mouth. “Let’s fucking go shopping. I’m bored and you need a dress for homecoming.”

She glanced up. “Homecoming?”

Lexie nudged the bag across the table. “Yeah, you know for when William comes home next week! Oooh we can get you some sexy lingerie too.”

“William hates lingerie,” Nayna said automatically, reaching for the bag and drawing out a couple of eggs. She set them on the laptop and watched them spin.

“That’s because he’s stupid.”

She didn’t respond. For the first time, she wished Lexie would just go away. Fuck, she wished she would wake up from this nightmare that didn’t feel dreamlike at all. She wanted to go home. How fucked up was she to want to be back where the dead were eating people? Happy wasn’t the right word for how she’d felt, but content seemed to fit. Here and now, she just felt out of place. And in her mind, it’d been so long since she’d seen William that she didn’t even know the extent of her feelings for him anymore.

“Hey,” Lexie said, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I know you guys were going through a rough patch, but hopefully y’all will be reminded why you married each other when he comes back. Sometimes absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Or colder. But Nayna simply looked up at Lexie and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go shopping.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, don't forget to kudos, comment, subscribe and bookmark. Also, you can follow me on tumblr: https://lovingzombiechaos.tumblr.com

NEGAN

Fingers slid down the length of his bare back, sending shivers juddering across his skin and leaving goosebumps behind. He brushed the hand away and burrowed himself just a little deeper into the coverlet, hoping whichever one of his wives would take the fucking hint and fucking leave.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his head pounded in protest to the sounds of female ministrations. Tugging on the covers, tickling his neck, shaking his shoulder. He shoved the hand off him and growled, “Fucking. Fuck. Off. Now.”

A tinkling laugh came from behind him and an unfamiliarly familiar voice whispered in his ear, “You need to get up, asshole, or you’re going to be late.”

For a split second, he thought it was Nayna. But Nayna was back in Alexandria and her voice was much higher and sweeter than the gentle, husky tones tickling his cheek. It sounded more like…no, it was just his stupid fucking mind playing tricks on him. How much had he fucking drank last night?

He grunted in response. The fingers glided over his jaw down to his chin and down to tangle in the fuzz of his chest and tugged.

“You’re going to be late,” the voice sang.

He decided to indulge whoever the fuck it was. “Late for fucking what?”

“Work.” The voice sounded a little less patient, but still fucking annoying.

With his eyes still closed, he rubbed and hand down his face, down his stubbled jaw. Fuck, he really needed a shave. And she needed to fucking go. The mattress shifted behind him as the woman moved closer.

“Fucking go get me a glass of water and some fucking advil.”

“Excuse me? Go get it yourself, lazy ass.”

Well, fuck, maybe it was Nayna. God that woman could be a fucking bitch sometimes.

“Neeeegan. Come on, sweetie.” The covers were pulled back, throwing him into a violent torrent of cold air.

It was enough for him to get pissed enough to roll over and pry his eyes open.

He stared up at the dark-haired beauty before him. Her curly hair framed her oval shaped face. She wore a slightly pinched, harried look, though her dark eyes were the same. Deep and sweet and loving. He inhaled sharply and his nose was filled with the tangy scent of her lemony shampoo. A scent he hadn’t smelled in such a long time.

It couldn’t be real. She was dead. Gone. He’d sat with her in that fucking hospital until she’d breathed her last. And then he’d left her there.

Jesus fucking dickfuck, how much did he fucking drink?

Negan reached out and touched the warm, tanned skin of her cheek. She couldn’t be real, as much as he wanted her to. Her brows furrowed in confusion as he traced a trembling path down to her chest and his palm pressed against her heart. The steady thunking reassured him and he sat up, jerking her into his arms.

“Negan?”

He buried his face in her hair. “Fucking fuck. I…Fuck. Lucille…”

Lucille slid her arms around his shoulders. “Babe? What is it?”

He wasn’t thinking anything aside from her folded into his arms.

“You’re alive,” he murmured into her hair.

She pushed on his shoulders and rocked back onto her calves, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her elfin ear. “Babe? Are you okay?”

He held her by the waist and drank her in, mesmerized at the mere sight of her. His thumbs pressed into her rib cage. She was warm and solid. And fucking his.

She reached over and brushed a forelock of hair from his face. “Did you have a nightmare?”

He leaned forward and laid his cheek on her shoulder. “In a fucking manner of speaking.”

She coiled her hands into his hair, stroking the nape of his neck, just the way she always had before. “Tell me.”

How could he explain the fuckstain of shit? Had it even fucking been real? Fuck, if he told her, she’d lock him in a goddamn mental institution. And she wouldn’t fucking be wrong about it either.

 He didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted his wife. He pulled her in, covering her mouth with his, drinking her in, tasting her minty toothpaste as her lips glided over his. Their kiss was everything he remembered and everything he missed.

He reached down and crumpled her shirt in his hands, pulling up and over her tummy, over her breasts. She grabbed his wrist and pulled back, giving him that look. The look that signified she wanted him, but she was still hesitant.

She started pulling her shirt down, but he snaked a hand between the fabric of her bra and the material of her shirt. A sigh escaped her lips. “Negan, you’re going to be late for work. So am I.”

He murmured across the skin of her collarbone. “Don’t fucking care about work. I just want you.”

Her fingers traced the curve of his ear. “Negan…”

He caught her lips again. “I fucking need you. I want you. I love you.”

She relaxed and sighed, breathing into his mouth. “What about the mortgage?”

“Fuck the mortgage, Lucille. Fuck the house. Fuck everything. Except you.” He pulled away and tore her shirt from her body.

She laughed…No, giggled. A sound he hadn’t heard from her in…years? Months? Days? He no longer knew what day it was or if he was dreaming.

If he was dreaming, he would kill the fucking man who woke him and took him away from…his wife.

She smiled at him, kissing him before shaking him off her. “I’ll be right back.”

Once the door shut behind, he buried his face in his hands.

His head pounded even more fiercely than before and he felt a panic rising in his chest. What if this was just a fucking dream? He didn’t know if he could fucking go through losing her again.

A small part of his brain asked _What about Nayna?_

“Babe?”

He looked up into Lucille’s confused eyes, filled with that soft glimmer as well. And in them he saw his second chance to be everything she needed and wanted.

He fell to his knees and practically crawled to her.

“Negan! What in the world?” She put her hands on the top of his head as he wrapped his arms around her slim waist and buried his face into her stomach.

“Babe, you’re shaking. Tell me what the fuck is wrong!” Her voice was full of urgency and he leaned back to gaze into her beautiful face. She swiped her fingers over his cheek. “You’re _crying._ Negan, you’re fucking scaring me!”

“I had a dream,” he said, his voice hoarse, “that you died. That I lost you. I…I’m a fucking asshole. A piece of dogshit. You deserve so much better, but I fucking love the hell out of you. I want to be that fucking man you deserve, Lucille.”

“Babe…”

“I only need one fucking thing from you.”

“What?” She frowned at him, the space between her eyebrows wrinkling.

He gave her his most sincere, endearing, pleading look. “You have to go to the fucking doctor.”


	4. Chapter 4

She pulled her jacket tighter around her as the wind whipped her skirt around her thighs. Stuffing her hands under her armpits, she danced from one foot to the other. Her eyes stayed glued to the pier where her husband’s ship was moored.

Soon he would walk off the ship, towards her and she would have to start anew. Her mind raced a thousand miles an hour, images of her and William flashing through her brain. It only made her heart beat faster and her soul ache.

Beside her the other wives huddled in groups, whispering about the chill of the May morning and occasionally shooting her furtive glances. She pointedly ignored them, as she always had. She needed less drama in her life, not more. Especially now.

Her insides were all twisted as she craned her neck to peer over the crowd. God, they needed to call liberty already. She was tired of the jitters running from her heart to her belly. Tired of shaking every time she thought about him.

Up until that morning, she hadn’t known she wanted him so bad. Even at their worst, they were still great friends. She never realized how much she missed him until he was a stone’s throw away. It was the same with Lexie.

She’d never handled loss all that well. When her father died it was tragic, but she’d forced herself to move on. Just as she had with the ending of the world. Just as she had when the world began again. What was the point of wallowing in it all?

Her phone buzzed from her purse. She pulled it out. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe.” William’s gentle tones made her heart clench.

“Hi,” she said in the shakiest of voices.

“My phone died.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated. “They’re about to call liberty.”

“I’m here near the turnstile thing, near the front parking lot.” She cleared her throat and turned away from the crowd.

“Should be a half-hour at most.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t freeze to death before I get there.”

“Only after. Got it.” She tugged on a stray piece of hair.

“See you soon. Bye, babe.”

“Bye.”

They hung up and she pressed the phone to her chest with trembling hands. Shit, she needed to get it the fuck together.

It didn’t take long for the mass exodus from the ship to begin. Nayna felt herself being jostled and bumped as happy, happy reunions took place all around her. She hoped William wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She blinked. She wanted him. She didn’t want that divorce. What if he did? She didn’t know if her heart could take it.

She blinked and then, he was there, walking towards her with an armful of roses and a tentative smile. She pushed past the crowd and met him halfway, arms outstretched to grab his backpack from his already overburdened person, though she craved a hug.

He misinterpreted her eagerness to help for an embrace and she grunted when her body thumped against his. He smelled like boat. She wrinkled her nose into his whites. Boat and William. And his breath was as awful as it was when he graduated boot camp. She laughed in his shoulder.

“That bad?”

“Awful.”

 She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He turned his face and her forehead connected with his nose.

“Ow! Fuck,” he said, stepping back and clapping his free hand over his nose.

Meanwhile, she rubbed the back of her hand on her forehead and started to giggle.

William shook his head and sniffed. “Zero days accident free. Here I am, home again and you’re already abusing me.”

His cheeky grin and twinkling eye only made her laugh harder. People were looking at them, but for once, she didn’t care. Nayna slipped the backpack from his shoulder and hoisted it onto her back. She thrust out her hand for his laptop case and slung that over her shoulder. She cocked her head to the side and headed for the parking lot, preferring to have their true reunion in the privacy of her car.

“Hey, wait,” he called after her. “I can carry that stuff.”

She grinned at him over her shoulder. “You can carry your duffel and my flowers.”

After they’d safely tucked his things away and shut the trunk, William grabbed her hands, his dark eyes searching her face. “I don’t want to divorce you.”

A rush of warmth nearly overwhelmed her. “I know.”

The relief on his face was evident and she reached up to cup his soft shaven cheek. He closed his eyes and turned his face into her palm, giving it a dry kiss. “Thank you.”

“This doesn’t let you off the hook for the shit you said to me.”

“I know.” His voice was hoarse. “I was a shit husband.”

“You still are. But I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“I was a shit wife too. So, we’re King and Queen of Shit Mountain.”

He chuckled. “I forgive you too, Queen Shitface.”

“Let’s go home.”

He opened his eyes and pushed her hand from his face. His arm came around her waist and his own hand tilted her face up as he claimed his mouth for her own.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she marveled on the differences and similarities between William’s lips and Negan’s. Both were soft and warm. However, William’s kiss was filled with familiarity and love, whereas Negan’s was full of lust and a strange sense of security.

He broke off the kiss and left her heart aching.  Her fingers had coiled themselves into his blouse. She smoothed her fingers down the crumpled material, marveling at how warm and solid he was.

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She thought she’d never see him again, thought there would forever be a hole in her heart where he was supposed to live. Seeing and feeling him made her realize she’d missed him more than she knew.

His thumb swiped along her lower lash line. “Hey, silly wife. I’m here. Don’t do that.” His voice carried that indulgent tone he used only with her and it made her smile.

“Shut up and kiss me again.” She tugged him down by the scarf and he obliged her with a sweet and gentle touch of his lips.

“Come on, let’s go home.” He tugged her back to the driver’s side and propped the door open with his hip.

She pawed at him. “You’re going to get your whites dirty. You know what a bitch they are to clean.”

He chuckled. “Fuck the whites, Meghan. I want to go home. Lie in bed. Fart on you a little bit.”

She sniffed. “God, you’re so unromantic.” Nayna slipped into the car and squinted up at him. “Norfolk home or Quantico home?”

He leaned down and nuzzled her face. “Home is where you are, babe.”

Her face relaxed into the first genuine smile she’d felt all week. “I love you.”

Cupping her jaw with his free hand, he rubbed his thumb along her lower lip. “I love you too. That’s the only reason I’ll ever consider taking any shit duty in Quantico.”

“What?”

“Unicorn fucking orders. Pulled some strings. You are one lucky motherfucker, babe.”

“You mean I don’t have to transfer down to shitty Norfolk?”

He grinned. “I heard it’s not that shitty. And it’s cheaper to live down here.”

She scrunched her face. “Mayhaps.”

“You just want to live near Lexie.”

“Duh, she’s my soulmate. Get in the damn car so we can leave this stupid place. Long ass drive home.”

“Soulmate, huh?” He put his hands on his hips.

She giggled. “Oh, don’t be a big baby. You don’t even believe in soulmates.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” He swiped a finger over the tip of her nose and sauntered over to the other side of the car. When he was properly buckled in she put the car in gear.

When she drove down yesterday, she assumed all these problems were little problems. Things that didn’t mean anything compared to the death and turmoil she’d faced already. And yet, she found herself extraordinarily grateful to him. She knew none of the shit mattered at the end of the day, and yet there he was, making concessions for what she wanted.

Had he grown up? Or was it because she stopped caring?

 

She pulled out of the lot and they rode in relative silence. He kept one hand on her thigh, though it felt heavy and awkward, she liked it.

For William, it had only been months since they’d been together last. For Nayna, it had been years. She would have to get used to his affectionate gestures again. All those years of shutting people out made her wince at anyone’s touch. Especially Negan’s, as his was directly affectionate. Even in ways William had never been.

She cast a furtive glance his way. He looked the same as ever. Dark eyes with impossibly long lashes, even longer than hers. Full lips underneath a sparse mustache, the only facial hair he was allowed. Determined chin and jaw. Heavy brow, that always made him look like he was thinking. And all that soft tufty hair. Baby chick hair, she always teased him.

He hadn’t changed one bit. But she had. This morning as she stood in the hotel room to get ready, she took a look at herself. A good long, hard look. And it shocked her how different she appeared.

There was no longer the hollowness of her cheeks, nor the anger or hunger in her eyes. Her face was fuller, rounder and her brows had been waxed and plucked until there was nary a stray hair to be seen. Still thick, but no longer unruly. Her skin was as pale as it used to be and the smattering of freckles on her nose were barely visible.

Looking in the mirror reminded her she was no longer Nayna. She was Meghan again. Meghan Hunter-Riganti. She was someone she didn’t know anymore.

There she was trapped between two worlds. On one hand there was William, her lover, mate, husband. On the other, there was Nayna—the wild, untamable girl she’d come to love more than anything in the world.

She hoped she could have both.


	5. Chapter 5

_Her dark eyes met his as she lowered herself to her knees, small fingers pawing at the front of his trousers. He groaned as she freed the aching strain of his erection. Her warm hand wrapped around the shaft as she lifted herself to mouth level and poised her lips in a big round O, hovering over him, teasing him, tormenting him._

_She wanted him to beg. He put his hand on the back of her head, gathering up a handful of long, dark hair as he attempted to push her forward, but he was met with resistance. He growled and her eyes sparkled in the night._

_“Suck,” he commanded and she snorted, though she obeyed, wrapping those soft, sweet fucking lips around him. He moaned as she glided down, slowly, ever so slowly until he was in the back of her throat._

_“Fuck, fuck.” His chest shuddered in response and his hips arched upward. He could barely fucking breathe. Her mouth was so wet and fucking warm._

_She pulled back just as achingly slow, her eyes still fixated on his, though one brow was cocked as if to ask “Do you like it?”_

_He stroked a gloved thumb over her thick brow and allowed his eyes to close as he soaked in every ounce of pleasure he could from her hot, suckling mouth._

_Picking up the pace, she allowed her hand to meet her mouth, twisting slightly. His hips moved of their own accord to keep with the pace of her mouth. He never wanted to leave that mouth. Unless….unless he could be inside her pussy._

_The thought of her pussy was enough for him to spurt onto her stroking tongue, again and again and again until he was completely empty. Until she had sucked him completely dry. She pulled off him with a pop, swallowing all he’d given her._

_He let her hair flow back down her back and he stroked his knuckles over her rounded cheek, his thumb swiping the freckles spattered across her nose._

_He flopped down onto the bed, still panting from the endeavor. She crawled up beside him and curled against his chest, her fingers running through his pubic hair._

_“Trying to make me hard again, doll?” He murmured into her hair as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead._

_She giggled, a girlish, un-Naynalike giggle. “Maaaaybe.”_

_He tipped her face upwards and pressed his mouth against hers and she sighed in ecstasy._   
_“Negan.”_

_“Nayna,” he murmured against her lips._

 

He opened his eyes just as Lucille rolled over in bed. Her sleeping, innocent form shamed him. She had no idea he dreamt of another woman while he laid in their marital bed. He was doubly ashamed to find he had a massive erection that needed his fucking attention right then.

He didn’t feel right waking Lucille up to take care of a hard-on given to him by another woman, so he shuffled off to the bathroom as quiet as he could to jerk it.

After he’d finished he sat on the toilet, hunched over, head cradled in his hands. He should’ve known it was a dream. Since when was Nayna that fucking affectionate with him?

Fuck, he had to get her out of his mind, otherwise he would fucking go crazy with guilt. He loved Lucille. He wanted Lucille.

But a little part of him wanted Nayna too. He couldn’t hide that from himself. Nor did he really fucking want to.

Where was she? Was she laying in William’s arms right now? Making love to him? Was she wishing she was somewhere else? Or was she content to just be with her husband again?

The thought made his heart contract and ache in hypocritical jealousy. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Enough thinking about Nayna, he had his wife to attend to.

He sauntered back into the bedroom and watched his wife’s sleeping form. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stroked his knuckles down her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Negan? Did you have another nightmare?”

He grunted and slipped in beside her, pushing her towards the middle of the bed and pressing himself against her. She lay her cheek on his bicep, looking up at him with sleepy, sexy eyes. He traced his thumb along the curve of her cheek and she smiled dreamily up at him.

“I made the appointment.” She reached up and patted his unshaven cheek.

He half sat up. “You what?”

She tugged him back down again. “The appointment you’ve been nagging me to make for the past week.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and held her tightly as a renewed shot of fear ran through him. What if they really did find some kind of fucking cancer? He almost didn’t want to know, as fucking asinine that was.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“I figured there was no reason not to. I’m due for a physical soon anyway, might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

He snorted. “Always practical.”

“Somebody in this marriage has to be.” She yawned and pushed on his chest. “Now get the hell off my side of the bed, I need some sleep.”

He curled his fingers around her chin and bent down for a long kiss. She sighed into his mouth and tapped the side of his neck. “Okay, babe. Okay.”

His body was responding again, only this time it was all for his Lucille. He rolled on top of her and pressed his growing hardness against her thigh. “Baaaaby…”

She rolled her eyes, but made no move to push him off. Instead she wrapped her arms about his neck. “Don’t wheedle me.”

He trailed gentle kisses down her chin. “Me? That’s not my fucking style.”

She laughed as he kissed the underside of her jaw. “You’re so full of shit, Negan.”

“You love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.”

He looked up in mock hurt...to mask the real hurt below. “Baby…”

But she pulled him down for another kiss and opened her legs, allowing him to lower himself onto her.

 

They were getting dressed the next morning when Lucille posed the question that made his heart drop into his stomach.

“Who’s Nayna?” She wriggled into a tank top, determinedly not looking at him.

He stared at her reflection in their dresser mirror for a few beats. He was quite fucking sure he’d never mentioned Nayna’s name aloud since...the last time he’d seen her.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He shrugged himself into a button down shirt.

Fucking school picture day. He’d be happy to fucking wear a t-shirt and gym shorts, but the head of the department was insisting everyone dress business casual. Fucking bitch.

“You said it quite a bit last night.” She zipped herself into a smooth pencil skirt.

He turned away to fasten the buttons, heart hammering. Had he said Nayna’s name during sex? Fuck, fuck.

“I mean, you were sleeping,” Lucille continued and rustled across the room towards the closet.

“I dunno, baby. Dreams never fucking make sense.” He was grasping at straws, but what else could he fucking do? How would he ever fucking explain Nayna to Lucille? He couldn’t, she’d think he was fucking nuts.

Maybe he fucking was. But it’d all seemed too fucking real for him to imagine. There was no point in pretending the unthinkable hadn’t happened when he had so many fucking vivid ass memories.

“Is she your…” Lucille trailed off.

They never really talked about his infidelities. Lucille would start and he’d shut her down or walk away. He sat back on the bed and sighed. He’d fucking treated her like shit and she’d just...loved him anyway.

He glanced up to find Lucille looking at him questioningly. He looked into those eyes he loved so fucking much and shook his head. “There is no one else.”

Her face twisted in anger, but he held up his hand.

“I am a shit husband. I fucking fully acknowledge that. But I ended it. When I say there is no one else, I mean there is no one else anymore and there never fucking will be again. I had a fucking epiphany and you’re the most important thing in my life and I’ve treated you like shit. Honestly,” he looked down at his feet, heart still a battering ram in his chest. A lump formed in his throat. He didn’t want to fucking say it, he wanted to be selfish, but those days were fucking over. He’d gotten his second chance and he couldn’t fuck it up now.

He swallowed. “Honestly, I wouldn’t fucking blame you if you left me. I deserve it. I deserve to be fucking alone after the way I’ve treated you.”

When he looked up at her, her face had softened and she was studying him. “That dream fucked you up, Negan.”

He pressed his thumbs to his eyes, unable to look at her anymore. “Yeah.”

She rustled over to him and placed her hand on his head. “I’m not going anywhere. If I wanted to leave, I would have left.”

“You’re a better woman than I am.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her stomach.

She snorted. “Well I hope so, considering you don’t have the right equipment.”

He laughed against her. “Fucking hell, woman.”

“I don’t know why you’ve changed your mind--”

“--I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I want and need you. Only you.”

“Okay.”

He smiled, a real smile, not one of his asshole grins. “Wanna fuck?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed him off her. “I’ve got an appointment to get to.”

His eyes ran down her skirt. “Getting all sexy for the doctor?”

“Hah, hah. Very funny.” She walked back to the closet and rummaged through their mix of clothes. “And you’re forgetting your tie.”

He groaned. “Fuck picture day.”

“I want a copy. I never get to see you this handsome.”

“I’m always fucking handsome.”

She grinned over her shoulder. “Okay, you got me there.”

He pulled on his trousers and roughly tucked his shirt in before buttoning. “These pants fucking okay?”

“Mmhmm.” She pulled out a bright blue tie.

He wrinkled his nose. “Not that one.”

“I like it.” She fingered it. “It looks good on you.”

“Fine, what the fuck ever.” He held out his hand and she slapped the tie into it. Their eyes met and he smiled at the twinkle in hers.

He turned and began to fuss with the tie. "Fucking shit."

She came to stand in front of him. “You never did answer my question.”

He reached out to stroke her dark hair. “What fucking question?” 

“Who is Nayna?”


End file.
